Rogues' Night Out
by Mike Davis
Summary: When Captain Cold, Mirror Master, Weather Wizard, Trickster, and Murmur decide to have a night on the town, nothing but chaos ensues
1. The Beginning

The stereo short-circuited with a loud hiss as the frozen Risk infantryman's bayonet was jammed into the speaker, and ice seeped into the wiring. "I take Japan," said Len Snart, the Rogue known as Captain Cold. "What're ye talkin' 'bout?!" angrily replied the Mirror Master, a.k.a. Evan McCulloch. "Ye def'n'tly snuck a cann'n in yer troops o'er there!"  
"Oh, cut the crap, McCulloch! You sore losing drunk! Go play Pretty Pretty Princess with that Magenta girl, you fucking pansy!" Mirror Master jumped up and threw a right hook at Len. He dodged it and belted McCulloch in the stomach.  
"Jeezus fucking Christ on a lilypad!," yelled Mark Marsden, the Weather Wizard. "You're like a bunch of little Dragonball fans! Kamae- freakin'-ha! Cut it out"  
"Screw you, Marsden!" replied Len. "Go play Harry Potter with that rod of your's!  
"It's a wand, you moron. Weather Wizard! Weather Wand! Not that fucking hard!"  
"Go fuck yourself, Dumbledore!" Then, Mirror Master cut in. "Aye let's just play the game!" he suggested. It was McCulloch's turn and he decided to invade South Africa. Slowly, as rolls were won and lost, infantries and cavalries were taken off of the Risk board. Fifteen rolls, another fist fight, and eight "f-words" later, Mirror Master took Snart's last figurine, placed it in a small makeup-case mirror, and punched it. The mirror and, consequently, the figure, shattered. "Heh...Good job," said the overly enthusiastic Mirror Master.  
"Hhhhhhhh," futily laughed Dr. Michael Amar—the Rogue known as Murmur.  
"Shut the hell up," yelled the second Trickster, Axel Walker. "We need some fucking lives!" The teenage criminal stomped over to the Risk table and with a crash, kicked the entire thing over.  
"Wot th'ell was that fer?" angrily inquired McCulloch.  
"Cause we've been hiding out in your aunt's apartment for a fucking month!," he replied. Axel walked over to the fridge. "We need a night out! Lose the costumes! Murmur—unsew the mask and wear a freaking trenchcoat. Len! Lose the hoodie! Evan! Orange makes you look like the damned Piper, and you don't want that! Wizard! Lose the rubber footie- PJ's!."  
"Low blow," replied Marsden. "I'd hate to admit it, but the kid's right."  
"Damn straight," said Walker. "Let's go!" No sooner than thirty seconds after this statement was he betrayed. Len froze his legs to a chair and the chair to the wall, then froze a Snapple to the wall next to him. The Rogues then dispersed to their rooms. They emerged ten minutes later looking like, for a change, normal civilians! Cold lost the hoodie, and now wore blue jeans, a Keystone Combines hockey jersey, his usual glasses, and his cold guns were hidden in their holsters beneath the jersey. McCulloch's blonde hair hung neatly over his eyebrows and barely touched the collar of his green sweater, which he wore with orange nylon pants, whose pockets held mirrors. Weather Wizard wore pants and a sweatshirt. Under his pants and in his sock was his wand. Murmur wore black pants and shirt, with a trenchcoat. His face had some dried blood, after unsewing his mask. He left his mouth sewn, and flipped the coat collar to cast a shadow on his lower face. His beady little eyes stuck out of their wrinkled sockets. "Where the fuck are all of you going," screamed the Trickster, as the Rogues left him. "Get the fuck back here! It was my idea! Why can't I go?!" Mark Marsden turned around.  
"You're...uhh...not...hmmm...eighteen? Yeah! You aren't eighteen yet! You're still a child! Good night. Don't stay up too late!." He slammed the door behind him. 


	2. The Magic of Film

The rain pitter-pattered off of the thrill-seeking criminals of Keyston City, known as the Rogues. Above the heads of Len Snart (Captain Cold), Evan McCulloch (the Mirror Master), Mark Marsden (the Weather Wizard), and Dr. Michael Amar (Murmur) lay the neon lights of the Rollins Theater. It advertised two feature films. In red lights shine the words "Iris Allen's The Life Story of the Flash: The Musical!" In smaller, blue letters was the title "Generic Masked Serial Killer 8.5: Blades, Blood, and Blondes."  
The puzzled supervillains looked at each other, dumbfounded. "Well," muttered Captain Cold. "Maybe outta respect for the speedster..." He was cut off by Murmur.  
"Lk!" he futily yelled. He pointed at the movie poster for Generic Masked Serial Killer 8.5. A "fully-grown" blonde girl sported a bikini. Her mouth was gaped open, screaming. The rating box was under her picture. It stuck out: "Rated R for gore, violence, and brief nudity." "N—n—nudity?!" The Rogues dashed into the theater. As the teenage vendor held out her hand for the thirty-four dollars worth of tickets, Marsden, Len, and Amar held their respective weapons to her head. They received their tickets, and walked into the lobby.  
The clerk at the concession stand watched as the group of men walked towards him. "Bah," he spoke as he closed the message board from the company computer that he'd hacked inj. "Going to one of those new...popular movies with musicians! Simple-minded bafoons." He fixed his glasses as the Rogues arrived. When McCulloch caught sight of the geek, he sighed. "Oh crap," he muttered to Len. "One o'dem li'l geeks that th'nk they can go 'round telling you what's good 'n not..." Weather Wizard grinned. He slowly walked over to the counter. "One pack of Gummi Worms. Large Coke. Extra large popcorn." He looked at his wrist, as if he had a watch. "Dammit! I already missed the first five minutes."  
"Of what?" asked McCulloch, just as Snart elbowed him in the stomach to shut him up.  
"For the movie! You know! The sneak preview of "Dead Ted 2!" The clerk's eyes lit up at the mention of his idol's latest movie.  
"Ex—ex—'scuse me!" He ran off down the hall. Marsden turned towards his fellow criminals.  
"Jackpot!" Snart pulled out the cold guns from their holsters. He shot the glass of the concession stand, then kicked in the iced glass. Weather Wizard heated up some popcorn butter with artificial, natural, sunlit, wand-generated warmth. McCulloch stashed nearly the entire stock of Skittles into a mirror. "Marsden!" yelled Len. "Loot the register!."  
"Oka—Ooh! Buncha Crunch!" He tossed his hands into a crate of blue boxes of chocolate covered candies. He was interrupted by Murmur who tried to tell them that the movie was about to start. After nearly playing a game of Charades, the Rogues looked at the clock on the wall, and realized for themselves that it was starting. They walked into the near-empty theater. The only people there were a few teenage couples. "Look at 'em. Idiots," muttered Evan. The lights dimmed. After an hour of random screams, yells, splats, thuds, and "The killer is—AHH!"s, the Rogues were bored out of their minds. "Where's the fucking nakedness?!" whispered Captain Cold to the Weather Wizard.  
"Shh...I think it's coming up right now." On the screen, a guy walked around his room. He started...undressing. The Rogues covered their eyes from the wrong kind of nakedness as the killer magically appeared behind the man, and knifed his back as ketchup spilled onto the floor. "Christ on a cracker!" bellowed Marsden. "I want fucking NUDITY! None of this gay porno shit!" He pulled his wand out from his sock. His eyes started to glow and his arms shivered as he aimed the wand at the screen. All at once, wind howled, and the theater was in chaos. Chairs were unbolted and stair lights were shattered. Finally, the glass holding the projector shattered and the camera flew forward and tore a huge diagnol rip in the screen. Marsden continued to use his weather powers (in this case, wind) to smash the projector against the wall. "Bastards," he murmured.  
He threw the wand back in his sock and stormed out of the emergency exit. The other Rogues followed. The four supervillains stood a curb, as the rain again started to pitter-patter off of their surprisingly normal and already soaked attire. "Nice fuckin' job. Wot th' fuck are we 'posed t' do now?" asked the Mirror Master in his annoying, Scottish accent. Snart bent over and picked up a purple matchbox.  
"Look," he said as he read it. "For a good time, come to Kitty's Exotic Bar." His eyes lit up as he read the next line. "Drink wine, and get fine...kitty." He stashed the matchbox in his pocket and walked down the street with the other Rogues. 


	3. The Dirty Things Rogues Do

As Captain Cold, the Mirror Master, the Weather Wizard, and Murmur walked towards "Kitty's," Len Snart, Evan McCulloch, Mark Marsden and Dr. Michael Amar's jaws dropped. Being crammed in an apartment with four other asylum- eligible freaks with nothing but board games had not only driven each other to the point of insanity, but prevented them from doing things men like to do with women. Sure, the fact that they were wanted felons didn't help their romanticism, but they were sexually starved, nonetheless (they'd be seen if they tried to go to the magazine stand on the corner).  
Thus, when the opportunity arose for them to feast their eyes on the glory of another female body on somebody else's cash, it was quickly taken. Captain Cold smiled as he pushed open the sparkling purple door to "Kitty's." They were greeted with the best sight they'd set their eyes on in a month. The carpets and walls were orange. Near the back was a door covered with gypsy beads, and a mirror revealed overweight, overpaid, middle-aged men sweating as women young enough to be their daughters wore next to (and in some cases) nothing as they rubbed...themselves....against their crotches. As the Rogues were fantasizing, Mirror Master called to them. "Oi! Look at th't one! Ain't she a fox?!"  
"Nc rck," futily admired Murmur. Len Snart smiled from ear to ear as he looked at the scantily clad figure prancing about the stage. She twirled herself around the long, smooth (don't get the wrong idea, you pervert) pole. Next to the girl willing to bear it all for a quick buck, two men urged her on with calls of "Take it off!" "Work it, baby!" and "How 'bout you grind against my fucking pole?!" They flashed one-hundred dollar bills at the stripper. Murmur gritted his teeth and his eyebrows hung over his buggy iris-less eyes. "Wtch ths," he said. He put his hand inside his trenchcoat, and turned down the collar. He walked over to the two guys. Shadows covered his face. The two polo-shirt sporting guys looked at their attacker. "What do you want, fuckface?" asked the one with a black shirt. Amar stared at them. Then the other guy laughed at him. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or did you just read a Namor comic?" Murmur stepped out of the shadows. He stretched his sewn lips so that the seams were clearly visible and prominent. He took out his blade. The two guys looked at each other. One muttered "Oh, shit." Then, large liquid stains started to ooze down their khaki pants from the crotch. Back at the bar, the other Rogues laughed their asses off.  
Thanks to (as Weather Wizard called them) the Piss-a-Lot Twins, the stripper was now left with nobody but the supervillainous Rogues of Keystone City. McCulloch called over the girl. She strutted over, swaying her hips and holding the sides of her thin, little, obviously anorexic stomach. "Hey," she said. "For only a hundred bucks, you can get the best time of your life..."  
"We'll take four," replied Snart.  
"F-f-four?!" she assured.  
"Yeah. Four. For me and these three bitches."  
"Umm....sure. Oh. That'll be four hundred."  
"Give her the money, Marsden." He turned to the Weather Wizard. "Come on, Marsden. Give her the money."  
"Uhh...What money?" he asked.  
"The cash! From the theater! That we sto--" he remembered that they were in public. "—found!"  
"Wait...Oh...Crap...I think I...uhh...kinda....forgot to get it..."  
"YOU WHAT?!" Mirror Master interrupted the now-homicidal Cold. "Now, gents. Don' worry 'bout it. I'm sure th's lov'ly broad'll give us a free show. Eh, babe?"  
"WHAT?!?!" She slapped him across the face, and two huge bouncers came and escorted the Rogues out of the building. 


	4. The Rogues Get a Headache!

For Len Snart, Evan McCulloch, Mark Marsden, and Dr. Michael Amar, it seemed as if the nights was over. The Rogues known as Captain Cold, Mirror Master, Weather Wizard, and Murmur looked grimmer (than usual) when they overheard a conversation from two girls. They seemed in their twenties. They wore halter tops and miniskirts with fishnets and boots. "Whoa," said Marsden. "It seems like we've got us some loosie goosies." The two "geese" started talking. "So, Danielle, why are we going to "Bambino's" again?"  
"Jeezus, Kelly. How many times do I have to tell you?! Bambino's! Guys! Guys who deal drugs! Guys who are bad!" The Rogues looked at each other. "Guys who are criminals." The Rogues dashed across the busy street (In Keystone, the streets are busy even at two o'clock in the morning) to Bambino's Club. As they entered, their ear drums started to bulge inside their heads. From the DJ came an annoying beat of the stuff people actually liked. "Pathet'c li'l assholes!" muttered the Mirror Master. As the music played, the couples (who most of them had probably faked their way into the club) did their usual "anal sex with clothes" dance. Every minute or so, they stopped to go with the chorus of the song. The bass on the song went BOOM! The crowd went "Go! Go!" The DJ yelled "What?! What?!" The idiots replied "Yo! Yo!" Then, they all jumped, landed with a thud, and continued to try to screw each other through their clothes. For nearly a half-hour, this remixed rap/techno song played. And nearly every minute, the Rogues wanted to kill them all thanks to the continuing "BOOM! GO! WHAT! YO! JUMP! THUD!" beat. Eventually, Cold realized that the Mirror Master was missing. "Hey," he inquired. "Where the fuck did McCulloch go?!" He looked down towards the far end of the bar. There was the Mirror Master talking to the two "geese." Cold walked there as Mirror Master was showing off his criminal record.  
"Yeah! I once 'eld th' 'tire police station host'ge!" he bragged.  
"No!"  
"Yea'. Really. I put 'em all in a mirr--," he stuttered. "—basement." Just then, Len arrived to his partner-in-crime's side. "Evan?! You're cheating on me?! With a...eww...woman?! Ah!" He slapped McCulloch square across the face. The two girls giggled and walked away. McCulloch turned to Len.  
"Wot th' fuck was that fer, Len?"  
"Cause you're a fucking slut-hog! And, besides, the fucking music's giving me a headache."  
"Yeah," answered Marsden, who had come to the two "lovers." "People actually listen to this shit. Eminem's better than this." He sighed. "Just look at Murmur." He pointed towards Dr. Amar. He was turning over nut dishes and smacking them against his forehead.  
"Sht..." Smack! "Up." Smack! "Wll," Smack! "it," Smack! "evr," Smack! "b'," Smack! "Qut?!" Smack! Just then, the bartender came over.  
"Alright, buddies. If youz ain't buyin nuttin', 'den git!"  
"Oh, you wanna fucking go?" provoked Marsden as he kicked back the barstool. "Come on, bitch!"  
  
"AHHH! Sht up!" Murmur tried to yell. The music had just reached its "BOOM! GO! WHAT! YO! JUMP! THUD!" point. Murmur got up, reached under Len's jersey, and grabbed the cold gun from its holster. Just as the crowd jumped into the air, Murmur aimed the barrel at the dance floor, and pulled the trigger.  
By the time the people landed, the entire dance floor was a sheet of ice. Every single person who was "dancing" on the floor slipped and fell flat on their backs or face. Cries of "AHHH!" "OWWW!" "OH, MY NOSE!" and "EEEEEE!" erupted through the club. Len looked at his companions and said "Ahh, the sound of music!" He grabbed his cold gun back from Murmur. "Let's go home, fellas." He looked at McCulloch. "And I'm still gonna beat your ass in Risk!"  
"Or I could just beat you all to a pulp right now!" said an invisible voice. All of a sudden, a red-and-yellow-colored wind type substance swept past the Rogues and they felt...hands! They were carried through the exit. "What th' fuck?" bellowed McCulloch.  
"Now, now, Evan...Didn't your mother ever wash your mouth out with soap. Must have, with that accent of your's." Standing in front of the Rogues was the Champion of Keystone City. Before them stood the Scarlet Speedster—the Sultan of Speed—the Monarch of Motion....The Flash! "Hello, gentlemen. And how are you doing on this lovely evening?" 


	5. The End

"Oh shit," said Len Snart, Captain Cold, as he stared at the towering crimson-and-gold figure in front of him.  
"Hello, Len," The Flash said. He looked at Len, Evan McCulloch (the Mirror Master), Mark Marsden (the Weather Wizard) and Dr. Michael Amar (Murmur). "Wow...A Rogue out of costume. Isn't that against the Rogue Law or something? Oh right. You're Rogues. You don't even follow the laws you guys should make." He paused. "So I hear you've been causing some...chaos...tonight, hmm? At the Rollins, Kitty's, and this ol' place right here. And a certain apartment was destroyed thanks to a strange T-shaped yo-yo."  
"Wlkr..." muttered Murmur.  
"Yeah! It was all Axel's fault! He had told us to get him some...uhhh...." Marsden tried to think of an excuse.  
"Ahhh...Shit..." said McCulloch. "Well, you've got us, Flasher." He reached in his pocket, as did the others. "Time to die, Flasher!" He pulled out a pistol from his mirror, Cold whipped out his cold gun, Murmur his knife, and the Weather Wizard his wand, which was thundering at the end. Just as quickly, they were all barehanded. One second later, they had each gotten fifty complimentary punches to both the stomach and face. They were then all tossed into a dumpster. Eventually, Marsden was able to talk.  
"So...I guess it's back to Iron Heights?" he inquired as the Flash vibrated his hand through the core of Captain Cold's cold gun. McCulloch's mirror lay shattered on the floor next to him, as did Mumur's bent blade. "Well, then, END IT NOW!" He reached for his wand.  
"No!" Wally screamed. He dove down and grabbed the wand before Marsden had even come close to it. He put each hand on it, and snapped it over his knee. "You aren't necessarily going to the Heights."  
"Wh—What? Why?" asked Len  
"Three reasons, Snart," replied the Scarlet Speedster. "First of all, I despise the place. It's not place to treat anyone—god, hero, civilian, thief, scoundrel, Rogue, evil mastermind, or insane serial killer." He paused. "Well, maybe the Joker, but still..." He walked over to the Rogues in the dumpster. "Secondly, because this is these are your first crimes." The Rogues, puzzled, stared at him. "Captain Cold, Mirror Master, Weather Wizard, and Murmur and wanted convicts," he explained. "But the Rogues Gallery didn't commit these crimes. Len Snart, Evan McCulloch, Mark Marsden, and Dr. Michael Amar did. You guys may have all done some extremely bad things in the past, but this is the first time I've been around to see it. Therefore, I'll let you off with a warning." He (extremely) quickly picked up all of the Rogues out of the dumpster. "And finally, because everyone," He smiled. "...even Rogues, deserve a night out." 


End file.
